


unite them

by FlamingStapler



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stormlight Archive Fusion, Dark Wilbur Soot, Dream Team SMP Spoilers, Gen, Knights Radiant (Stormlight Archive), Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), No Romance, Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Protective TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Supportive Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingStapler/pseuds/FlamingStapler
Summary: In which the True Desolation comes for L'manberg and Tubbo reforms the Knights Radiant.Honor is not dead as long as it lives on in the hearts of men. Unfortunately, those men are Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit.tl;dr Hoid's favorite block is the purple stuff in nether portals.On hiatus for ~ rewrites ~
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Sylphrena, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the stupidest crack crossover. Please enjoy, I will literally die if I don't have everyone's approval constantly always.

Tommy had always hated the storms.

Techno had made fun of him for it when they were younger. He was too old to be afraid of a highstorm at ten, certainly too old to be afraid of a highstorm now at seventeen. When his older brother had moved out, though, he grew to miss the taunting, Techno’s way of showing affection.

Wilbur had been nicer. Wilbur had comforted him.

And so it was in the cave they had named Pogtopia, mere hours after their exile from L’manberg. They sat on a rock, listening to the storm overhead, and Tommy leaned quietly into his brother’s hug, and Wilbur talked quietly, planning, more thinking out loud than addressing Tommy.

“We need to take back L’manberg. We can’t leave them to Schlatt,” he said, speaking quickly as he always did when he schemed. “We can’t do it alone, but there’s not many options for help. Dream? No, he’ll certainly prefer an incompetent tyrant to us. What if--”

“I think…” Tommy paused. “I think we should speak to the Blade.”

“Techno?” Wilbur paused. Then he nodded. “That might work. He’s not exactly a fan of governments, and he’ll certainly not agree with Schlatt’s leadership. Do you still have the spanreed?”

Tommy nodded.

Wilbur looped his foot through the strap of Tommy’s backpack on the nearby wall and pulled it closer. Digging through it, setting aside a few small diamonds, rocks, a coveted music disc and a knife, he pulled out a book, a quill, and a small ruby gemstone.

“Stormlight.” He said, and Tommy handed him the clearchip they were using for light. Wilbur began to write.

* * *

Technoblade always hated the storms.

He hated having to sit still. He hated staying inside. He wanted to be out hunting, out working, doing something. The storms were dangerous, yet so inviting. It was said in the cities that the Lost Radiants or Voidbringers or strange spren haunted the storms, and although he doubted it he wanted so strongly to know for sure. But he respected the danger, stayed inside as his father had always told him.

Then the spanreed began to blink. A ruby connected to its matching pair in Philza’s house in L’manberg. Curious, he put it on a pen, twisted it, and watched it write.

_ TECHNO _ , it said.  _ WILBUR AND TOMMY HERE. SCHLATT WON ELECTION. EXILED FROM L’MANBERG. NEED HELP. _

His brothers, then. Technoblade snorted. Of course Tommy had stolen Philza’s spanreed. The boy never did learn  _ basic respect _ . And they had been exiled. Wasn’t that just hilarious? They formed a government and it cast them out.

_ WHERE? _ He wrote.

A pause.

_ UNDERGROUND RAVINE. CAVE IN THE SIDE OF A HILL. _

A map appeared, drawing itself on the paper, crude directions from L’manberg to their hiding spot. Techno sighed; it was clearly Tommy’s work.

Why should he help them? It seemed like they’d asked for it. Running an election just to solidify their power and then losing served them right. He sighed again, then reached for the pen.

_ ON MY WAY. _

* * *

Tubbo had always loved the storms.

He would sit at the tiny windows in his stormshelter for hours, staring out into the winds and the water, watching as it slowly died out into rain and crem, watching as the plants emerged to lap up water, watching the windspren and rainspren and dancing lights of the highstorm. Yes, Tubbo used to love the storms.

Then the strange dreams started. They were different every time, little glimpses into strange places, strange people’s lives, events that seemed utterly fantastical. And always, always, he was given the same message.

_ UNITE THEM. _


	2. Chapter 1 -- TommyInnit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help arrives and Tommy has an interesting conversation with the wind.

As they sat huddled together in the cave, spanreed safely tucked away after their sudden call for help, Wilbur and Tommy did not speak. The storm raged overhead, shaking the cavern around them now and then with objects hurled against the walls, crashes of thunder and lightning, the moaning of the wind that he could almost imagine to be some kind of terrible spren. Tommy shuddered, retreating deeper into his brother's hold, and Wilbur gave him the closest thing he could manage to a reassuring look.

"We'll be fine, Tommy," he said, faking a smile. "This time next month we'll be back in L'manberg's storm shelter." But Tommy knew he was lying, as strange purple blobs floating in the air around his head. Fearspren. Tommy nodded despite himself.

"Techno will be here after the highstorm." Tommy said. "We need to make the cave look better. Not like this shitty little hole."

"Right," Wilbur chuckled, a brief, genuine little laugh. "something to do, at least."

They got to their feet slowly, almost numb from the cold of the cave, and while Tommy began to dig through his backpack for his pickaxe, Wilbur simply held his arm out to the side. Mist began to condense around his outstretched hand. Finally, a few moments later, a Shardblade dropped into Wilbur's hand, a long, slim blade almost six feet long, silvery metal shining in the flickering torchlight, swept back with only one cutting edge. Tommy always thought it odd how casually Wilbur used his Blade for menial labor; such a beautiful weapon, his most prized possession, and he used it to dig pits and carve cave walls smooth.

With nothing else to do, they set to work.

* * *

Tommy didn't notice when the storm ended, absorbed as he was by the work of carving up walls and lighting torches, laying out their bedrolls and sharpening tools. He did notice, however, when light appeared at the cave entrance.

"Wilbur," he said, pointing up to it, and his brother looked.

Nervously they readied their weapons, Shardblade and iron sword, and watched.

Slowly, silhouetted by the setting sun behind him, someone stepped down the slope into the deeper cave. A netherite sword gleamed in his hand, and a crown shone on his head, reflecting light from the torches.

Technoblade grinned, waving to his brothers.

"Did someone say rebellion?"

* * *

After everything was explained, Techno briefed and the cave warmed by a small fire, Tommy went up above-ground while his siblings discussed their plans. He knew they weren't going to include him in the discussion anyway. A cremling skittered across the dirt in front of him, windspren dancing in the last few stormwinds as the riddens rained down on the forest. He rested his head on his knees, arms folded in front of him, and sighed.

A small light drifted away from the windspren, a singular blue-white spren flying across the field to take the form of a simple ribbon of light dancing around him. It spoke in the voice of a young woman.

"Why are you sad?" it asked.

He frowned. "Windspren don't talk. And they aren't _women_."

"Am I a woman?" Suddenly it was a young woman, a girl hardly a year younger than Tommy himself, and she looked down at herself. "I do _look_ like one."

He let out a small, stifled laugh, almost like a sob.

"So you're sad because windspren don't talk?"

"No, I don't care about dumb fuckin' spren," he said, snorting, and she giggled. "What? What's funny?"

"What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

"Tommy," he said, then frowned again. "I don't suppose you have a name, being a windspren?"

She shrugged. "I think I do, but I don't remember it."

At that she drifted away, rejoining her friends, and Tommy was left alone, rather confused by the whole conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've no doubt figured, we're playing fast and loose with the SMP timeline. Yes, Techno already has netherite. Shhhhhhh, it's fine.


	3. Chapter 2 -- Technoblade, Tubbo, Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers make their first preparations, while Tubbo and Fundy talk about nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some information on the lore of this AU!
> 
> The area contained within the server is a region known as the Greater DreamSMP. It contains the nations of The Badlands, L'manberg (now Manberg), and DreamSMP itself, and it's commonly believed that it's actually a colony of a long-lost Mainland that fell centuries ago. Dream claims dominion over all of it, though Eret is king of DreamSMP and neither of their rule is acknowledged in The Badlands or Manberg.
> 
> The Radiants and the Desolations did exist and are acknowledged as part of history. Shardblades are slightly modified: you can take them without killing if you can wrest it from someone's hands without letting them dismiss it, and they bond instantly rather than over a week. The following characters own Blade and/or Plate:
> 
> Dream (owns both, rarely uses Plate as he prefers some risk)  
> Wilbur (owns a Blade)  
> Fundy (owns a Blade, which Wilbur stole from Sapnap during the L'manberg war of independence and gifted to him)  
> Sapnap (owns Plate, his Blade was stolen by Wilbur and gifted to Fundy)  
> GeorgeNotFound (owns a Blade but no Plate)  
> BadBoyHalo (owns Plate but no Blade)
> 
> Characters not listed might become Radiant or they might simply not own Shards at any point.
> 
> In addition, the populations are inflated by necessity; there are about thirteen thousand citizens in L'manberg, ten times that in DreamSMP, and only about two thousand in The Badlands. The Greater DreamSMP has such a low overall population because of the monsters, the normal Minecraft creatures who haunt the world by night. It is steadily growing, but not especially quickly.
> 
> Spren exist, as you may have guessed. The Stormfather is something of a religious figure in DreamSMP, but not in L'manberg.
> 
> Parshman workers are heavily used in DreamSMP and the Badlands, with a population of roughly sixteen thousand Parshmen scattered throughout Greater DreamSMP. Parshman slavery is specifically outlawed in L'manberg, though it is likely Schlatt will reverse this policy in the name of economic progress.
> 
> Death rattles are something of a recent phenomenon.
> 
> The Heralds are known and existing in universe, though they aren't quite as worshipped as they are on Roshar.

_"Alone, abandoned before the storm. My friend is the enemy, my life is death, my strength become weakness. The journey has ended."_

\-- Collected September 23, 2020 by the Silent Gatherers. Subject was a villager captured ten kilometers outside DreamSMP.

* * *

Technoblade had never lived in L'manberg. His home was a nice little cabin in the far north, miles out from the more civilized lands they called Greater DreamSMP, which included the nations of DreamSMP, the Badlands, and L'manberg within its borders. He had only visited once, not long after the signing of their peace treaty, their independence guaranteed. So when Wilbur suggested that he might head into the city-state capital itself to gather information, he vehemently refused.

"Dude, it'll look _so suspicious_ if I come within ten miles of L'manberg." He said, scowling under his pig mask. "I know I'm pretty great, but I ain't that great to fight all their guards at once."

 _Do it, do it._ The voices whispered. _Technospy._ He ignored them.

Tommy seemed affronted at that. "L'manberg wouldn't hurt someone unprovoked."

"No, no, he has a point, Tommy." Wilbur mused. "Any other ideas? We need to know what they're doing. What's going on."

Techno shrugged. "I saw 'em tearing down the walls on my way past. If I had to guess, I'd say Schlatt's agenda is anti-wall. Not sure, though."

Tommy raised his hand. "What if--"

"We aren't kidnapping Antfrost." Technoblade interrupted. "Mandatory volunteers are inefficient."

"And slavery is wrong." Wilbur added, stifling a laugh.

"Wasn't going to say that," Tommy muttered, scowling.

 _Do it, do it._ The voices said. _Technoslaver._ He ignored them.

"Well, we'll need food first." Wilbur said. "We only have a few days' supplies, and this will take weeks if not months."

"So, you could say it's time for--" Techno began eagerly.

Tommy groaned. "Don't say it."

"POTATO FARMING!"

Wilbur and Tommy both sighed, and Technoblade hurried to start digging out a farm.

* * *

Tubbo paced back and forth across the ground that had held Manberg's great wall only a few days earlier, hands folded behind his back, sweating nervously despite the chill of autumn. It was nearly dark, nearly time for the monsters to emerge and he was not a Shardbearer, not a warrior at all. A few feet away from him Fundy stood with his arms folded, tail swishing back and forth as he pondered the revelations Tubbo had just bestowed upon him.

"Visions," Fundy said, "of the Lost Radiants."

"Yes, yes, that's what I said." Tubbo said impatiently. "For weeks now, every time the Highstorm hits, I have them. Someone keeps telling me to 'unite them' and I don't know what's going on, Fundy! You're one of my best friends, I thought maybe-"

"Unite them." Fundy repeated. "Unite who?"

"I don't know!" Tubbo cried.

"Do you think it means Manberg? Maybe you have to bring back Wilbur and Tommy? Or maybe it's the whole SMP," he mused, "and you need to reach out to Dream and Eret."

" _No._ " Tubbo said immediately, uncharacteristic venom in his voice.

"Why are you telling me this?" The fox asked, frowning.

"I-- I had to tell someone, and I knew I could trust you." Tubbo stammered. "You can't tell anyone. Not yet. I don't-- I don't know what to do yet."

Fundy sighed.

"I promise."

* * *

Wilbur and Tommy sat outside the cave as the sun set, Tommy holding a small dun sphere and Wilbur leaning on his Shardblade, stabbed into the ground beside him.

"Tommy..." Wilbur began, "I think we have a problem."

"What?" Tommy frowned.

"L'manberg voted us out, Tommy," he said. "I'm worried we're not doing the right thing by fighting that."

"You said it yourself!" Tommy scowled. "We can't leave our nation to Schlatt. What will he do to them?"

"They chose him, Tommy. They _chose_ Schlatt. Storms, Tommy, what are we doing here?" He sighed. "Am I the villain in this story, Tommy?"

Tommy was silent for a moment. Wilbur closed his eyes, leaning back against the hill.

Then Tommy said, "No."

"Why not?" Wilbur asked.

"They kind of chose Schlatt, but he's... he only won because of a cheating deal with Quackity, right?"

"It's not cheating, we agreed to it, Tommy."

Tommy scowled. "But it was bullshit! They cheated! He only had, like, fifteen percent of the vote."

"Sixteen percent." Wilbur corrected him.

"And we had forty five."

"Tommy, he's the legitimate president."

Tommy glared at him, and that strange Windspren again began to dance around his head. Wilbur watched it curiously for a moment, then looked back to the sun setting in the distance. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wilbur cut him off.

"Let's get back inside. Wouldn't do to die to a stray creeper."


	4. Chapter 3 -- Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy does some thinking while he spars with Wilbur.

_ “Standing against my brothers, blade in hand, ancient words renewed.” _

\--Collected September 24, 2020 by the Silent Gatherers. Subject was a blacksmith captured from the outskirts of Manberg.

* * *

Tommy had never been the fighter his brothers both were. Oh, he knew war; he had fought for L’manberg, had bled and killed for his nation. Tommy knew war more than anyone his age ever should have, and by most any standard he was an exceptional warrior, certainly one of the most skilled combatants in the world. But he, and Wilbur and Technoblade, were Philza’s sons, and he had trained them from their early youth to fight, like he knew somehow the war that would come for them. And by the standards of their family, he was dead last.

Technoblade was the best of them in combat. His skill on the battlefield was legendary across the realm, his prowess at arms and his terrible strength. Of all the hundred fifty thousand in the Greater DreamSMP, only Dream himself could rival Technoblade. But it wasn’t Technoblade that Schlatt had to fear most, in Tommy’s opinion.

That distinction fell to Wilbur. Though he was a brilliant warrior in his own right, that wasn’t his most fearsome trait. What was most terrifying about Wilbur Soot was his charisma, his ideals, his incredible leadership. Wilbur could move crowds to riot and marshal an army from a city of pacifists. Wilbur was the one with the ideas, even as children, and though Techno had eventually adopted his own ideology Tommy had never stopped following him.

All this to say that Tommy could not compare to his brothers in battle on his best day. Which was why he was terribly annoyed when they called on him to spar, train for the revolution to come.

He groaned, taking up a wooden training blade from a rack they’d set up on the cave wall, and took a starting position opposite Wilbur. His older brother readied his own sword and fell into stance, and the fight commenced, and while they sparred, Tommy thought.

The bad guy. Was he the bad guy? Schlatt had won through un-democratic means with less than a fifth of the vote; most of the population had preferred them, with their lead over Schlatt being as large almost as the next most popular party’s entire vote. They had won in a landslide.

He almost didn’t notice the wind around him, dancing with his every movement through the makeshift training room, though Technoblade must have, as he suddenly began to squint, watching the duel with interest. Was he the villain? Schlatt was going to doom the country. He was aggressive, ambitious, taking down the walls, exiling their oldest defenders and already, according to Tubbo, beginning rhetoric against the DreamSMP. They were saving L’manberg, liberating it.

But Wilbur was right, Tommy reflected as he parried the swing of a blade and countered with a quick jab that landed home in Wilbur’s midsection. Schlatt was, legally, a legitimate president.

_ Big fucking deal. _ He decided. Schlatt was legally in charge, but that didn’t mean he was  _ right _ . Tommy would do the right thing, law be damned, and the right thing was to protect his people.

Then he looked down his blade and saw Wilbur, disarmed, on the ground, staring up at him with a strange, confused wonder, that strange Windspren again dancing around him. She perched on his shoulder, and Tommy withdrew his blade, offering his older brother a hand. He had defeated Wilbur in melee combat- effortlessly defeated Wilbur, taken him down in two minutes flat without even thinking about it.

Tommy was not as skilled a warrior as Wilbur. He knew that for a fact. And yet he had won.

Technoblade approached, still watching Tommy oddly, and clapped his hands slowly.

“Nice fighting, Tommy.” He said. “Do it again.” He took up Wilbur’s sword and Tommy groaned, assuming his own stance.

Under a minute later, he found out that he could not replicate his strange feat of skill as Techno knocked him down in seconds.


	5. Chapter 4 -- Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy talks to a friendly Windspren. Tubbo comes to a decision. Wilbur's mental state declines.

“My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished! If I can’t have it, no one can!”

\--Collected September 30th, 2020, by the Silent Gatherers. Subject was an elderly woman taken from the Badlands.

* * *

“You aren’t windspren.” Tommy observed one day, as the strange spren danced around him on a boring, tiresome watch shift outside the cave. “Windspren don’t stick around like this.”

“I’m not?” She blinked, hovering uncomfortably close to his face.

“Back off, bitch.” He said, scowling.

“That’s not nice, Tommy.” She said reproachfully, becoming a tumble of leaves that flew around his head. “Why aren’t you nicer? I know you can be nice.”

“I’m plenty fuckin’ nice.” Tommy glared at her. “What do you know? Don’t even got a name, do you?”

“I have a name!” She said cheerily. “Syl. Syl. My name is Syl. Why do I have a name? Windspren don’t have names.”

“You’re a weird spren.” Tommy observed. Syl grinned, taking a bow.

* * *

Tubbo’s spanreed to Tommy was blinking, and he didn’t know what to do.

Tommy and Wilbur sought revolution once more. He knew that. He knew what they wanted; they wanted to take power again. They wanted to take Schlatt down.

But he was supposed to unite. He knew that, a consistent theme throughout the visions, dreams, messages from the Heralds or the Stormfather or Almighty-knows who. Tubbo was meant to unite.

Would that unite  _ anyone _ ? Would the world be better off with Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit in charge?

He thought.

And he decided.

_ No. _

The people had voted for Schlatt. The people wanted Schlatt. Revolution didn’t unite people.

He would bring men together.

Tubbo pushed the spanreed aside, and he laid back down in his bed, and he returned to his sleep.

* * *

The first scout from Manberg found their little commune a week after they left. Wilbur was keeping watch that night, unarmed, looking out over the forests from a safe perch in one of the taller trees near Pogtopia, nearly drifting off to sleep, when he spotted movement in the distance, a faint light through the trees.

Clambering slowly, quietly down the branches, he crept closer, reaching a hand to the side in preparation to summon his Blade. He drew nearer, hardly fifteen feet away now, and the sword fell into his hand. Ready to strike, disarm them in one motion and figure out who it was, he lunged out from the brush--

\--and stepped on a twig immediately, snapping it in half and alerting the scout to his presence.

The young man threw himself to the ground and rolled to the side, and Wilbur’s Blade passed uselessly through a nearby tree, which toppled to the ground with a thundering crash. The scout jumped to his feet, backing away warily, but recognition was clear through the alarm and fear in his eyes.

“Preside-- err, Mr. Soot?” He stumbled over his words, holding a spear in shaking hands. “You’re-- oh, storms, you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Wilbur gave a short, solemn nod, stepping closer with his Blade at the ready. “I’m here.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry, I have to get back to L-- back to Manberg.” He stammered.

“Can’t let you do that. Schlatt will kill us, you see.” With a slow shake of his head, Wilbur made his move. Sweeping his leg under the scout’s feet he knocked the younger man to the ground, then leveled his Blade above his neck. The scout let out a pitiful whimper, eyes locked on that deadly sword.

Images, memories flashed through Wilbur’s head, thoughts of a long-past revolution.

_ “Independence or death,” Wilbur said. “If we get no revolution, we want nothing. We would rather die.” _

_ “Down with the revolution, boys. It was never meant to be.” _

_ A frantic, desperate battle through the control room. Tommy, injured, nearly dead. Tubbo barely better off himself. _

Wilbur’s mouth twisted into a snarl.  _ His _ L’manberg. He had fought for them, bled for them. His brother had almost died for them  _ so many times _ . And they stabbed him in the back. And this soldier, this lowly soldier, wanted to do it again.

“Please, I--”

Wilbur didn’t let him finish. He brought the Blade down on the man’s neck and watched as his eyes burned out. After a moment’s consideration, he dragged the body away, looking for a place to hide it. Then, the corpse safely disposed of, he returned to his watch, which would not end for three hours longer, when Technoblade would take over.


	6. Interludes - Drifter, Philza, Eret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoid might be a hobo, Philza goes on a trip to L'manberg, and Eret has a friendly discussion with Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day, neato.

“I have seen the end, and I have heard it named. The Night of Sorrows, the True Desolation. The Everstorm.”

\--Collected August 3rd, 2020, by the Silent Gatherers. Subject was a prisoner of war captured during the L’manberg rebellion.

* * *

The Drifter sat at the base of the podium in the Manberg town square, playing a cheerful tune on his old guitar, nodding to the passerby who occasionally threw spheres into the overturned helmet which sat before him, a dented, battered piece of armor taken from one of the DreamSMP soldiers killed in the revolution. He paused, looking up, as a man approached, the young Secretary of State, Toby or Tubbo or something like that.

“Why’d you stop?” The boy asked curiously.

“Interesting question,” the Drifter mused, strumming idly at the strings. “Why did I stop?” Something was off about the child before him, he knew. Something was strange; he went where he was needed, but he rarely knew why he was needed there.

“I d-don’t know.” Tubbo stammered. “I should--”

“Adonalsium.” He said suddenly and watched the boy carefully, gauging his expression for some kind of response or reaction. Nothing.

“What? What does that mean?” Tubbo took a step back, looking around. “I’ll just, uh…”

“Ah, yes. The life of a secretary is a busy one, hm?” The Drifter smiled, pretending he hadn’t said anything. “Farewell, young Toby.”

“Tubbo.” The boy corrected him.

“Tubbo, yes.” And with that, he returned to his music, and the boy wandered off.

* * *

Philza emerged from his cabin, a scant few miles from L’manberg, after the Highstorm, retrieving his newly-infused spheres from a cage outside the house. He stretched his wings, feeling the cool air rush through his feathers, and smiled.

“We should visit Wilbur and Tommy soon,” he murmured. “Been a few weeks, huh?”

“Mmmmm. Time runs short.” The pattern on his sleeve said in a low hum, shifting as it always did in an endless spiralling movement. “Are we prepared?”

“I know we’ll be ready.” He said, a confident voice belying the tremor of fear that ran down his spine.

“Mmmm. A good lie.”

“It’s not a lie, Pattern.” Philza answered, irritated. “And we’d be better prepared if you would give me more useful information.”

The spren was silent for a moment. “I do not remember the last Desolations, as I was not yet formed. Very few of our number remember those days. But the Desolation draws near. The others must have begun their return, I think. I suspect the Honorspren will not fight, but perhaps the others…”

Philza sighed, and together with the Cryptic he set out for the nation that he didn’t yet know his sons had lost.

* * *

Eret sat on his throne, and Dream stood at the door.

“You want to help Wilbur and Tommy.” Dream said. It wasn’t a question; the man always knew more than he should have, Eret thought.

“Yes.”

“Tell me, Eret. Where does your power come from?” He brushed a lock of hair back behind his mask, staring up at the king he himself appointed. “Does it come from your crown? Is it the simple fact that you’re king?”

Eret held back a scowl, breathing in slightly. Then he sighed, remaining silent.

Dream continued, ignoring Eret’s irritation. “If respect is all that protects you from a knife in the back, well… respect is nothing, right?”

“I betrayed them once,” Eret said simply. “I won’t do it again.”

“You’re only powerful because I give you power.” Dream answered sternly. “The DreamSMP will not go to war with Manberg.”

“Then we support them covertly. Equipment, information--”

“We don’t support them at all.” Dream cut him off. “We watch, and we wait.”

Eret considered disobeying for a moment. He entertained thoughts of fighting, of running, of leaving to rejoin his old friends. He thought, perhaps, of redemption.

Then he dismissed those hopeless fantasies.

“You’re right,” he said automatically. “We’ll see what happens.”

And something in him broke, as it did further every day. And he sat on his throne and he waited.


	7. Chapter 5 -- Tubbo, Tommy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo experiences a vision of the past and Tommy comes to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third in a day, sweet.

_ “Three of sixteen ruled. Now the Broken One reigns.” _

\--Collected October 6th, 2020 by the Silent Gatherers. Subject was a Parshman laborer who died in a construction accident in DreamSMP.

* * *

The highstorm struck again, and the world around Tubbo changed.

He stood in a small wooden shack, looking out a window onto terrain he recognized. He was in the DreamSMP proper, the capital city. He recognized those mountains, recognized that river. Why was it such a small village, though? And he recognized none of the people, not the woman who stood cowering behind him or the small girl she tightly hugged.

Tubbo looked around for a moment, confused. “What’s going on?” He asked.

“The-- the monsters--” the woman stammered. She was cut off by a slam at the door, something hurling its weight against the flimsy wood. With no other weapons in sight, knowing he wasn’t nearly the warrior he would need to be, Tubbo grabbed a fireplace poker, already sweating from nerves, shaky and unsteady in his stance.  _ Tommy _ would be appalled at his form, even moreso Wilbur and Philza.

Then the door burst open, and a creature of darkness entered the hut, pure black as the night sky without stars. Acting on instinct, he stabbed it with the poker, then narrowly dodged a swipe of its claws.  _ What is this thing? _ He began to panic as it barreled into him, knocking him over, and stabbed upward through its head. Black smoke leaked where its skin broke and it deflated above him, slowly dissipating into the strange smoke. He pushed it away, ushering the woman and her child out the door to a strange protest of “Heb!”, whatever that meant.

They ran from the house, hiding, narrowly evading another pair of the creatures. Then another jumped them, and he rushed to engage it, putting himself between the people and the beast. Then it tackled him, and with a sudden motion it gashed open the arm that held the poker, forcing it from his grasp.

_ I’m going to die _ , he thought.

Then there was a light overhead. He gasped, looking up to it, and so did the creature.

A man in Shardplate appeared before him, strange Shardplate like he had never seen before, glowing with odd glyphs, and a Shardblade much the same. With a single, swift motion, the Shardbearer slew the beast, and another in similar armor appeared, putting a hand on Tubbo’s wound. Stormlight flooded into it, and with a small chill it began to patch itself, healing rapidly.

He stared, amazed, then looked up to his saviors.

“You fight well.” The one with the Blade said. “You should come to Urithiru. Every man who can fight is needed to defend against the Desolation.”

“I-- I-- what?” Tubbo stammered. “Who are you?”

“The Knights Radiant.” He said simply. “You needn’t respond now. I must join the defense of the village.”

As that one rushed off, his companion approached Tubbo, speaking in a different voice from the feminine tone she had spoken in with the other Knight.

“Unite them,” she said in the same resounding, deep voice he had heard in every vision. “I cannot help you. Not anymore. But you must unite them.”

“What does that mean?” He demanded.

There was a brief pause, and the woman turned away. “This is important.” She said. “Do not let strife consume you. Be strong. Act with honor, and honor will aid you.  _ Unite them _ .”

And at that the vision ended, and he found himself in bed once more, confused and alone.

* * *

Tommy wandered the woods near Pogtopia, accompanied by the strange spren Syl as he always seemed to be now, looking for food or medicinal herbs or whatever the hell it was they needed, he didn’t even know. He kept a hand on the longsword that hung from his belt, steel with diamond edges enchanted to hold their cutting edge rather than chipping with each swing, and he searched.

He didn’t expect to find much. Technoblade had thoroughly combed the area for useful supplies days ago. He especially didn’t expect to find a dead body, a young soldier wearing the colors of L’manberg, his eyes burned out by a Shardblade.

Syl gasped, going quiet as they saw it. Tommy hurried forward, praying to the Heralds it wasn’t someone he knew. Praying in vain; he recognized this soldier. One of his. One of his men, one of those he had trained himself in the revolution. This was a member of the  _ original _ L’manberg army. He didn’t know the man’s name, but he knew that this one had fought under him.

And he knew who had killed him. Only one man in Pogtopia had a Shardblade.

“Did… did you know him?” Syl whispered.

Tommy nodded, grimacing. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

The spren landed on his shoulder, resting an incorporeal hand on his face. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?

_ Was he okay? _

Of course people would die in a revolution. Of course they would have to kill their own people. He hadn’t quite realized that. How had he not realized that?

He wasn’t just fighting Schlatt. He was fighting L’manberg.

He was fighting Schlatt to protect L’manberg, but here he was, preparing to fight his own country.

“Tommy… who was he?” Syl asked.

“He was a soldier.” Tommy answered. “He was one of my soldiers. A L’manberg man through and through. Good man.”

“Who did this?”

He sighed. “Wilbur did this.” Wilbur did this. His brother had killed one of their people, one they had fought to free from Dream.

And Tommy didn’t know what to do. Was it better to leave them to Schlatt, or to hurt them while saving them?

He had to fight for L’manberg. But he couldn’t hurt L’manberg while he did it.

He had to get his discs back. But L’manberg had to come first.

He had to save his brother before he went too far.

And words came to him unbidden.

Syl stared at him, strangely focused for the normally bright, cheerful, scattered windspren.

“Life… Life before death,” he whispered. “Strength before weakness.” He stared down at the soldier, his soldier, his dead soldier.

“Journey before destination.”

And something changed, though Tommy didn’t yet know it.

Unaware of the importance of what he had just done, Tommy got up, swearing in his mind to remember his lost soldier, and began the long walk back to Pogtopia.


	8. Chapter 6 -- Technoblade, Tommy, Tubbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur makes some revelations to Techno and Tommy, Tommy learns some things, and Tubbo prepares a festival.

It was the third argument they’d had that week over the coming festival, the invitation Technoblade had found when he went back to his cabin to grab supplies. Techno thought it was a trap; Wilbur wanted him to scout it out; Tommy was preoccupied with other things. Technoblade didn’t question why Tommy spoke quietly to seemingly nothing, sat in the corner staring at the air. He had his concerns--  _ was he broken, too? Did he hear the voices? _ \-- but Tommy volunteered nothing, and so he didn’t ask.

“Wilbur, I’m all for this revolution, but if I die you two are screwed.” He said plainly. “I ain’t going.”

Wilbur snorted. “We can handle ourselves, and we’ll be nearby to extract you if things go wrong.”

“Oh, yeah? You think Tommy’s gonna be a lot of help? He’s talkin’ to himself! He’s been talking to himself for weeks. Kid’s going crazy down here.”

Tommy scowled. “Fuck you.”

“See what I mean?” Techno grinned. Tommy glowered at him.

Wilbur sighed, going quiet.

Tommy frowned, his scowl dying, and looked to him, the eldest of the three. Technoblade did likewise, rather concerned at the uncharacteristic lack of an idealistic monologue.

Then the former president spoke.

“I haven’t been… entirely transparent with you two,” he began, and Techno could have sworn he saw a disgusted  _ sneer _ on Tommy’s face for a moment. Wilbur ignored it and continued, “I’ve been speaking with Dream. He says Eret has refused to help us, and Eret’s king, but… he has agreed to supply us with a great deal of explosives.”

Technoblade slowly began to grin, as Tommy’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Are you saying…?” Techno said.

“Do you mean--” Tommy began.

Wilbur cut him off, smiling a smile in which Techno could already see the beginnings of true madness. “Our nation is far behind us. And we are going to blow that fucker to smithereens.”

“Wilbur, no.” Tommy said. “Wil, that’s our  _ home _ .” He hurried to his feet, glancing at something in the air next to him. “You can’t.”

Technoblade began to laugh. “We’re doing it, boys!”

Tommy took a step away, putting his back to the wall, horror clear on his face. Technoblade couldn’t care less in that moment.

_ Don’t do it. Help Tommy. Help him. _ The voices whispered.  _ The words. He knows the words. _

He ignored them.

* * *

Tommy stumbled out of the cave after the end of that  _ horrifying _ conversation, followed closely by Syl.

“What the fuck?” He screamed.

“Tommy, what does explosives mean?” She asked innocently.

He groaned. “Explosives means  _ L’manberg is going to die _ . What do we do? What do we  _ do _ , Syl?”

“We stop it!” She said, punching the air, voice filled with infectious cheer. Tommy glanced up and saw strange gray spren floating around him, like tattered cloth streamers in the wind. Gloomspren. He’d never seen them before.

“How?” He demanded. “Wilbur and Technoblade. I can’t fight them! Even if they weren’t my  _ brothers _ , I’m barely a roadblock to them.”

A moment of silence passed, Syl considering his words carefully. Then she spoke up again; “That’s not true, though.”

“What do you mean that’s not true? You ain’t seen them fight.” He sighed.

“I’ve seen you fight. You’ve changed since I’ve known you! I’ve been watching you for a while, you know. You fought for your home. You led the army, right? And you’re stronger now. You’re better now. You beat Wilbur last time you fought!”

“That was a fluke.” He said, scowling. “I can’t do it again.”

“It’s not a fluke,” she said. “It’s… it’s a… it’s part of…”

“What? What is it?” He looked to her curiously.

“It’s us.” She said simply. “Both of us.”

“What, me and you? Windspren don’t fight.”

She nodded. “But I’m not windspren, am I? I don’t know what I am, really.”

“You’re talking a lot more words than you used to.” He noted.

“Because you said the words.”

And at that she disappeared, flying off into the forest.

* * *

Tubbo knew how to start uniting them. It began with Schlatt; he was the president, and as that wasn’t changing any time soon the populace had to unite behind him. This was something of a difficult endeavor. He wasn’t popular when he took office, and exiling Wilbur and Tommy had done little to help that. And so they came to the conclusion, the cabinet together, that it was time to hold a festival, a month away, with everyone invited, even their neighbors in the Badlands and the DreamSMP, even Technoblade, brother to the fugitives, and Philza, their father. Everyone except Wilbur and Tommy.

He thought they needed to try and reconcile with them. Schlatt disagreed. So he did as the president ordered, and he prepared for the festival.


	9. Chapter 7 -- The Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything goes perfectly fine, nothing is wrong, and everyone is happy.

The day of the festival came as quietly as any other. It was immediately after a highstorm. The riddens past, the sun rising, Wilbur and Tommy preparing their own precautions, Technoblade began the trip to Manberg.

It was raining, which the Chat thought a rather poor omen but he thought simply made travel more convenient. Flying through the air on a riptide trident fabrial, an emerald broam shining at the base of the weapon, he smiled.

Today was going to be bloody. He could already feel it.

* * *

Tubbo frantically paced back and forth across the lawn as the festival was set up. Banners were hung across the square, games built and readied by L’ma— by Manberg citizens. He was missing something. There was something afoot that he didn’t understand, Schlatt was planning something and he was missing it. Something wasn’t right.

Unite them.

He sighed, and forced a smile. He had a job to do anyway.

* * *

Tommy held an ender pearl up to the light, studying it as Stormlight refracted through its many vertices. People always said ender pearls were spherical, but they weren’t. They were like gemstones. Like a chull’s gemheart.

“Are you ready, Tommy?” Wilbur asked cheerily, and the younger boy shoved the pearl in his bag, adjusted the sword hanging from his hip, and nodded. An enchanted bow slung over one shoulder, a quiver of arrows on his other, he wore netherite, a metal both stronger and lighter than steel. He was as ready as he would ever be.

Syl danced around his head, silent, but shot him a concerned look every few moments. He did his best to reassure her with his expression, but it was hard not to attract Wilbur’s attention.

And the brothers set out for Manberg.

* * *

Schlatt sat at his desk and drank an entire bottle of whiskey. It wasn’t the best idea, not right before the festival, not with what he had planned, but his head pounded and he needed it.

Tubbo was a spy.  _ Tubbo was a spy. _ How had he not seen it? Of course Tubbo would be a spy. He’d exiled the boy’s best friend and then handed him a privileged government position. What the hell had he been thinking? How had it taken him so long to see the boy’s strange behavior? His spanreeds, his wanderings about Manberg and the surrounding woods?

Tubbo was a spy. And he was going to fix it.

* * *

Niki Nihachu awoke to a blinking spanreed the day of the festival.

A spanreed to Wilbur Soot.

She hurried to get it, to see what it had to say, twisting the gemstone and setting it out over paper, and quickly it began to write.

_‘Coming to the festival,’_ Wilbur wrote. _‘Technoblade with us. Be ready.’_

And it ended there. She tried to write back. Tried to send a message, tried to ask questions, and got no response. Forcing down her fear, terror, despair, confusion, Nihachu nodded and she went to check her gear.

* * *

Wilbur did not feel any joy as he smiled, wandering down the path to Manberg with his little brother in tow.

Tubbo had betrayed them. Of course he had, what had he expected? Tubbo was a traitor. He’d known he couldn’t trust anyone… he’d known he could only trust Tommy, hadn’t he? Not even Technoblade, not even their eldest brother, could really be trusted. Everyone else would betray them eventually. Even Technoblade, even Niki.

Even Tubbo.

He looked back to Tommy, whose eyes were fixed on something a few feet in front of him in the air that Wilbur couldn’t see.

“What’re you looking at, Toms?” he asked, with far more cheer in his voice than he really felt.

“Ah? Tommy jumped at his voice, and Wilbur suppressed a scowl. “Err, sorry, just some weird spren.”

That wasn’t a very Tommy thing to say, but Wilbur would worry about that later. For now, he looked ahead, to Manberg in the distance.

* * *

Technoblade found himself enjoying the carnival games.

He won an enderman plushy that he thought Tommy would appreciate later. He won a strange sort of candy from another game, which he decided he’d share with his brothers later. He won a few melee combats in a dueling ring, beating Quackity to a pulp both with and without weapons, and he very nearly won an odd dice game.

_ Behind you Behind you Turn around Haha Quackity’s bleeding TURN AROUND _

He turned around and saw Tubbo standing nervously behind him. All his enjoyment of the festival disappeared at once, cold fury rising in the pit of his stomach.

“Hello,” he said. “Tubbo.”

Tubbo laughed nervously. “H-hey, Techno. How’s, uh, how’s Phil?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“And, uh… how’s… Tommy?” Tubbo asked, more quietly.

Techno snorted. “Better off without a traitor bothering him, I’d guess.” Internally, he seethed. This little brat had simply ghosted Tommy and Wilbur. Tommy’s  _ best friend _ . Had betrayed him.

“Can you pass a message to him for me?” Tubbo asked in a very low voice.

Techno considered it.

“No.”

* * *

Tommy took his position atop the roof, atop the tower, and waited, ender pearl in hand while Wilbur studied the festival layout.

“I’ve planted the TNT,” Wilbur announced. Tommy’s eyes widened.

“You’ve what?” he demanded.

Wilbur laughed. “We’re blowing this place to Damnation, Toms, aren’t we?”

“Can’t…” Tommy swallowed his fear, the anxiety that rose at the thought of arguing with Wilbur. “Can’t we talk about this? We fought so hard for L’manberg.”

“They’ve rejected us, Tommy,” he said. “Betrayed us. L’manberg is gone.”

“But the people—”

“It’s gone,” Wilbur said with a sense of finality, and Tommy’s protests died on his lips. He’d figure something out later. He had to. For now…

The speech was beginning.

* * *

Schlatt grinned as Tubbo finished his speech. Some drivel about unity, standing together. Something that didn’t matter. He started laughing.

“Uh, Schlatt?” Tubbo asked nervously. “Are you alright?”

“No, Tubbo,” he said. “I’m not alright. I know what you’ve been up to.”

“What have I been up to?” The boy asked, confused.

“Don’t play dumb, Tubbo!”

* * *

Technoblade watched from the crowd as Tubbo was boxed in. As guards rushed forward with premade barricades to trap the boy, as Schlatt declared him a traitor, declared that he had been working with Wilbur and Tommy though Techno knew for a fact that he hadn’t been. It was fine; served Tubbo right, as far as he was concerned.

Then he was called up to the stage.

* * *

Wilbur stared down with an intensity Tommy hadn’t seen since the revolution as Technoblade took the stage. Tommy shuddered, though the gaze wasn’t even aimed at him.

And Schlatt gave the order. Schlatt told Technoblade to execute him.

* * *

Wilbur watched as Technoblade gave a few pitiful arguments, his heart clearly not in it as he barely even tried to avoid killing Tubbo. For Tommy’s sake, likely, though Wilbur knew it would be better for Tommy to just outright kill Tubbo.

Finally, Technoblade began to load his crossbow.

* * *

Technoblade felt a vague, distant sense of guilt as he slowly loaded a firework into his crossbow.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he said. “I’ll make it as painless and colorful as possible.”

* * *

Niki gasped, horrified, staring up at the podium.

Technoblade was going to do it. He was going to murder Tubbo.

* * *

Syl stared down at Tommy.

“Tommy. The words.”

Tommy clutched an ender pearl in one hand, his sword in the other. He took a deep breath.

Techno raised his crossbow, firework ready.

* * *

His finger began to squeeze the trigger. Then he stopped as someone in the crowd called out, an incoherent yell, and everyone turned to look at a nearby rooftop.

TommyInnit stood atop the tower, sword in one hand, ender pearl in the other.

* * *

_ Life before death. _

“I…” He knew the people below could hear him. His voice carried down from the tower to the festival grounds.

_ Strength before weakness. _

“I will protect…”

_ Journey before destination. _

“I will protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

There was a distant crash of thunder.

Wilbur reeled back, stumbled away, nearly fell to the ground as he stared at Tommy.

And Tommy exploded with light.

**_THESE WORDS ARE ACCEPTED._ **

* * *

In an instant, something changed. Dream felt it, a shift in the rhythms of the very world around them. He jumped to his feet and stalked out of his room, the chambers he sometimes used in Eret’s castle.

Something had changed. Something important. Something they hadn’t planned for.

* * *

“Techno, kill the brat,” Schlatt said, urgency in his voice. “Kill him now.”

Technoblade raised his crossbow to fire at Tubbo, but it was knocked from his hands by an ender pearl, which shattered and in its place appeared Tommy, glowing with an ethereal white light which rose from his skin like smoke from some spectral fire. Determination in his eyes like nothing Technoblade had ever seen, the younger boy planted a kick on Techno’s chest, his foot striking the chestplate of his netherite armor.

And somehow, impossibly, he was thrown off the platform, knocked back as if he weren’t wearing a full suit of heavy armor, as if Tommy weren’t a child with little muscle to speak of.

Tommy raised a netherite sword, still shimmering with enchantments, and with two clean strikes he freed Tubbo from his prison. Finally, the guards arrived and began to fire on him with crossbows.

And he  _ dodged them _ .

* * *

“Tubbo, we have to go,” Tommy said. “Come on.” He grabbed Tubbo’s hand and leapt off the platform. “Stay close.”

Soldiers rushed forward to engage them, but only a handful closed to melee range; the rest, it seemed, were simply too terrified, scared of the light that emanated from his skin. Tommy didn’t care; he took them at a sprint, striking the crowd like a living storm.

It was like nothing Tubbo had ever seen. It was impossible. Tommy had always been a skilled warrior, but not to that degree, that insane skill and speed, grace and strength in equal measure perhaps even on the level of Dream himself.

And yet he wasn’t killing. Tubbo noticed that after a moment as they went. Not a single one of the soldiers was dead or dying; only a few had even drawn blood. Tommy forced them back, and forced their way through, and no one was dead.

And before he knew it they were free, away from Manberg. And they were gone.

* * *

Technoblade, Wilbur, Schlatt and Niki stared after the boys, none of them moving from their places around Manberg as Tommy effortlessly cut his way through dozens of soldiers.

_ What the hell? _ The thought echoed in all their minds.

Yet of them, only Wilbur had begun to realize the truth. Wilbur, who knew his history so well, who had heard so many legends of the Lost Radiants.

Wilbur stared after his younger brother and began to laugh.

Tommy was Radiant.


End file.
